Help

At the end of the day, no one made any attempt to approach the church with their theory. It was merely conjecture, and they were all fatigued, as Onia had mentioned. Onia appeared hesitant about seeking the church's help in finding her sister, a reluctance that everyone noticed—except perhaps Ghaarsh, who took her words at face value.

The moon hung high as Brent prepared to call it a night. He set up his bed and glanced at Ghaarsh, who was sleeping soundly on the other bed. Despite his rugged appearance, Ghaarsh slept peacefully, almost without a sound, defying the expectation that he would be a loud sleeper.

Brent moved to extinguish the oil lamp when—

Knock, knock, knock.

Brent heard it after the third knock. The sound was faint, just loud enough to notice but not enough to wake Ghaarsh. He approached the door cautiously looking through a peephole.